


rumble.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel, Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 14:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14956476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Loki knows how to show a boy a good time.





	rumble.

Midgard is… Exhausting.

In recent years, buildings have grown higher and higher; there are screens at every turn; such noise, and light, and messiness! New York is interesting, and vibrant, but the controlled chaos is so lacking in personality, so full of conflicting messages and thoughts, and Fandral has for so long grown in the green meadows and forests and rivers of Asgard. The Æsir believe in moulding themselves around nature’s whims instead of attempting to bend nature under their will, and the Midgardians have an entirely different philosophy.

To stand on the roof, even, of Thor’s Avengers Tower, and see not a patch of green in any direction - it’s stifling, and uncomfortable, and unnatural.

Fandral stands on the sidewalk outside the Tower, waiting, waiting. Loki had offered, murmuring the words hot in Fandral’s ear, to take him somewhere else, take him somewhere better, but Fandral has been waiting nearly 10 minutes, and–

The roar of an engine sings hot in his ears, and Fandral’s head whips around. Loki’s dark leather breeches are tight to the sides of the motorcycle, and a silver chain shines around his neck: Mjölnir, set against the black cloth of his shirt. His hair is tied up against the back of his head, and he wears a pair of black-lensed spectacles, ones that he pushes down his nose. He grins, and Fandral is helpless to do anything other than grin back.

“Aren’t you meant to wear a helmet with one of those?” Fandral asks, even as he jogs to the curb, and he slides onto the back of the motorcycle, his chest against Loki’s back as his hands slip around his waist - it’s not so different to a horse, but his legs are spread wider, and the bike has a different heat, and a _rumble_ …

“Oh, yes,” Loki assures him, pushing his sunglasses back down. “Before we move out to the verdant greenery of Westchester, we shall be speeding away from the constabulary.”

“Excellent,” Fandral says. “You truly know how to show a man a good time.” Loki laughs, and when the motorcycle punches forward, Fandral squeezes Loki tightly, laughing against his back.

Midgard is exhausting. Loki knows how to relax.

**Author's Note:**

> [Hit me up](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/ask). Requests always open.


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